This piece is about the space between independence and intimacy. About wanting without needing, and how that can sometimes feel scarier than either extreme.
It isn’t a confession or a plea—it’s an acknowledgement. Of fear, of feeling and of the quiet hope that choosing someone doesn’t mean losing yourself.
— Rowan Evans
Wanting someone doesn’t have to mean losing yourself.
Not a Need Poetry by Rowan Evans
Sometimes it’s hard for me to say what I feel.
Sometimes I just want to close my mouth, and not let a peep out.
Sometimes I have so much I want to say, but…
I’m scared.
I’m terrified. Honestly, I’m overwhelmed.
Overwhelmed by how much you make me feel. By how much I want…
You.
It’s not a need, I’m just fine on my own. But maybe, with you,
This poem sits at the intersection of confession and cosmic metaphor—the place where most of my writing lives. Over and Over explores the terrifying, beautiful truth of wanting someone in a way that feels bigger than logic or circumstance. It blends the casual language of everyday life with the vastness of stars and gravity, because that’s how love feels to me: ordinary and impossible at the same time.
This piece is part of my ongoing work in Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism, a genre rooted in emotional honesty, soft ruin, and the belief that choosing someone—even when it scares you—is a quiet act of rebellion.
— Rowan Evans
Two stars in the same orbit — even when they were never meant to meet.
Over and Over Poetry by Rowan Evans
It’s wild to me,
how I’ve fallen for you.
‘Cause you and I,
we come from
two different worlds,
collide, once upon a time—
enemies, opposite sides.
Now I’m just tryin’,
to get on the same team.
I want to be your partner.
Ride or die, I watch your back
and you got mine.
And it scares me,
how much I want this.
How much I want you—
not the pretty and polished,
but the vulnerable and true.
Still it terrifies me,
everything I’m willing to do,
to give up, just to be close to you.
Everything I know,
I’d say, “adios”,
“Sayanora”, I’m Danny Phantom,
I’m going ghost.
And maybe we weren’t built for this,
but here we are—
you and I,
two distant stars.
But somehow,
we ended up
in each other’s orbit.
Two stars
spiraling towards,
mutual destruction.
Or something.
I don’t know,
I’m not a scientist.
I just know,
that whatever this is,
whatever we are…
whether that is friends,
or something more…
I’d choose this,
over and over,
again and again.
I would choose this—
because having you in my life,
is a million times better
than not having you at all.
Looking for more poetry? You can find it all in theLibrary of Ashes.
Poetry by Rowan Evans 